


Dear Me

by HathorAroha



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Letters, letter writing, snow sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-17 12:04:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3528725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HathorAroha/pseuds/HathorAroha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One year and one day after Queen Elsa's coronation, the two sisters write a letter to their younger 10-year-old selves, scribing what words of advice and wisdom they would impart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dear Anna

Dear Ten-Year-Old Anna,

 

Okay, this is weird, and I know you’ll never read it because I’m you and you’re me—wait, what? I mean, you’re me in childhood and I’m you at nineteen. And believe me, everything’s so much better now, younger me.

Right, yeah, this _is_ weird to write, but Elsa insists I do this too—if she’s doing it, then I’m doing it too. It’s a way to see how far we had come since her coronation last year (it’s been one year and one day now). We have agreed that when we are finished, we will read what the other has written for our younger selves. So here goes, ten-year-old Princess Anna!

So you’ll think it weird that 19-year-old me is writing to 10-year-old you, but listen up—you’ll be fine, Anna. You’ll see Elsa again one day, and the road to finally being so close as you once were again won’t be easy. You will have to make painful choices to do so—but it _will_ be worth it. One day, you will know why Elsa’s shutting you out, and she will be scared when you do find out, but she will be okay—mostly—again. I won’t say what it is that’s scaring her, because I know you’ll run up to her door, banging on it, and shouting that you know her secret, and that will scare her senseless. Trust me, it would really, really upset her, and I—you—both of us—know that the last thing we want is to hurt Elsa in any way. (By the way, try not to ask her to build a snowman so much in the future, as it’s linked to some painful memories you don’t remember. Trust me. It’s like a crazy trust exercise to trust your future self, but yeah. Just trust the crazy trust exercise.) But really, ten-year-old me, you did _nothing_ wrong, it’s _not_ your fault that she’s shutting you out.

I’ll say this right now: Elsa has _never_ stopped loving you, and she never will. So keep knocking on her door, keep talking to her, even if you just want to give up. Your talks to her through the door is keeping her going, keeping her from fully falling into her dark place. Please, _please_ don’t stop knocking on her door. I know one day you probably will, and you’ll give up, but for the love of Olaf (you’ll meet him _way_ later and freak out and kick off his head because…well, you’ll see), don’t give up on Elsa. She may not talk to you much—if at all—but hearing your voice always helps her live through another day.

So please, _please_ don’t give up on her, even when you want to. Elsa needs you more than you know, than you understand, and trust me, you’ll be close again one day. It won’t be for a long time, but it will happen. I’m serious (whoa, that’s a new one—Anna being serious.)

Once again with the crazy trusting your future self exercise, but trust me when I tell you this: be sure to cherish and love your parents every day. Give them lots of warm hugs—preferably daily and several times a day—chat all their ears off, and be sure to count every smile and words of love to you. They love you and have your best interests—as well as Elsa’s—at heart. They love you so, so much.

In the future, though I know you’ll dismiss it, remember that fairy-tale romances, as beautiful and fanciful as they are, may not be all they seem. Just remember that love isn’t just about finding a Prince Charming, and sometimes Prince Charming may be anything _but_ “charming” in real life. Sometimes you have to kiss a few diseased frogs (yeah, unfortunately your future self still stinks at metaphors) to finally find your knight in shining armour. And that knight might not be in armour, nor might he ride a horse. That knight might be an ice harvester who talks to his pet reindeer, but who knows. I _might_ be wrong.

So now I’m going to finish right here, and I bet you anything Elsa’s written one that’s _pages_ long, because she’s so much more elegant—or whatever that word beginning with “e” is—you know, well-spoken—than I am. Though I suspect that hers would be bringing up a lot of painful memories, and I’m going directly to her after I finish this to give her the warmest hug of her life so far. She’ll need one, I _know_ it.

So, ten-year-old me, love your parents and Elsa and though it’s going to still be really hard over the next several years, once you’re eighteen it’s going to get better.

Like way, _way_ better.

Just wait a while longer and you’ll see what I mean in another eight years.

Hang in there, Anna—or at least, ten-year-old me (wow, this _is_ weird to write.)

 

Warm hugs and love,

Nineteen-year-old Princess Anna.

 

P.S. Love will thaw. These three words will be very important in another eight years. Remember them.


	2. Dear Elsa

Dear Ten-Year-Old Elsa,

 

Today marks one year and one day after my official coronation as Queen Elsa of Arendelle. It also marks one year since reconciling with Anna, and we are now again as close as we were in childhood before the accident. Coronation day, though it be still far away for you, will mark the beginning of true happiness and freedom, after being able to put the past in the past and “let it go”. But if I were to offer words of encouragement to you, here is what I would say. I may shed a tear as I write (and need a hug from Anna afterwards), but I don’t mind now I know it is okay to cry, for it is a natural response to pain.

First, I will tell you that Anna will _always_ be there for you. She loves you too deeply and unconditionally to ever hate or reject you. Of all days, you will start learning this on your Coronation day. But it shall not come without terrible pain. I still think of that day when she showed just _how_ much she loved me even then, how painful it was, but when it passed and all was right again, how relieved I was that all was still well. It is through a sacrifice—and I know you even now are making sacrifices for her—but the sacrifice I speak of is not necessarily of yours. It has something to do with Anna, and it will be through this that will bring two dear sisters close to one another again after so many years.

Your powers _are_ beautiful, really, and I know you won’t believe me, and I wish I could show you how far you will go once you learn to love the magic. I wish I could show you how Anna will neither fear or reject you—but still love you, powers or no powers. That excited five-year-old Anna who loved your magic never truly left. You will build a snowman together and, ironically, when you build your first one together after so many years, you will never even realise it. Let it be known, Olaf _will_ return.

When Anna sees how beautiful the magic—not curse—is, you will see that little girl in her eyes again. Whatever happens, trust her. She loves you _so_ much more than you know now, and would do anything—and I do mean _anything_ —to protect you and show she cares so much about you. Anna is the most selfless, giving, compassionate, and best sister and friend anyone could ask for. I _promise._

Now, on to the “conceal, don’t’ feel” mantra. I know you believe it is working, because when you “don’t feel”, your magic does not go out of control. Suppressing your feelings will work only for so long, and you may find that allowing yourself to feel will heal you more than suppressing. By “feel”, I emphasise you are allowed to feel happier emotions—including love, and this will turn out to be so much more important and powerful than you realise in the future. You may tell others they will never see you cry, but it’s okay to cry sometimes. You don’t have to cry in front of anyone, but you can allow yourself to cry when alone. Trust me. It seems hard to trust someone a good few years older—even when that someone is an older you—but just trust what I’m saying is true.

I am sure Anna is writing the same thing to her younger self too, but please, _please_ be sure to love and appreciate your parents as much as you can. They only want the best for you and while keeping you away from Anna may in the end have not been the wisest of choices, they _do_ love you. I know you are terrified of touching anyone, but I implore you just this once to allow them a little bit of touch, even just holding your hand or putting a hand on your shoulders. You will not hurt them any more than you would hurt Anna. I know you won’t believe it, and my heart breaks knowing this is true, but one day you will understand what I am talking about, what I speak of.

There will be a number of years ahead of you where you will find yourself at your loneliest, at your most vulnerable, but I promise without hesitation there will be happy days in store for you. You will still have down days, but one day you will have more happy days than bad ones, and a lot of those bad ones will be made a little better through being able to be in Anna’s presence without fear of your powers. You will learn that your magic is not something to fear, but to accept and love. Once again, love is the key to controlling your powers, not fear. I wish you could read this letter, so you understand how much your magic is a gift to embrace and not a curse to be suppressed.

One day, you will love your magic. You will do the magic, Elsa, and love it once again, just as you did once upon a time. You will be that little girl again, embracing your powers without holding back, delighting in all that it can and will do.

You’ll be fine, Elsa.

Believe me.

 

Her Royal Majesty,

Queen Elsa of Arendelle.


	3. Warmest Hugs

Neither knew it, but both sisters finished writing their letters at the same time. Anna laid her quill next to the inkwell, and, in her own study, Elsa put her quill back in the inkpot. More inkblots than tears dampened Anna’s letter, whilst for Elsa the opposite held true. Anna leaned back in her chair, arms dangling as she looked at the letter she’d just penned, while Elsa meticulously folded hers into thirds as though it were a diplomatic letter she was about to send off to another state or nation. Overwhelmed with the emotion of the last thirteen years, both sisters allowed themselves to reflect on their pasts.

 

It is Anna who first stands up, letter in both hands, to look for her sister, fully aware of the lump of emotion constricting around her larynx. But right now, she is more concerned for Elsa—in some ways, her older sister’s years were even worse than Anna’s. Both had been isolated, but Elsa had lived the better part of thirteen years in fear of her own powers. Even today, a year later, Elsa had her own off days when she would retreat for no reason and Anna had always been sent for to coax her back again. A couple times, Elsa didn’t even come out of her room, leaving Anna to fill in for the council meetings. She was getting better, Anna felt, even if the healing took a long time. She didn’t know how she knew—perhaps just by innate instinct— that Elsa would take _years_ to fully heal. But this time, Elsa would not be alone.

 

Anna hadn’t had to live in fear for thirteen years, yet in hindsight, she winced as she remembered all the knocks on Elsa’s locked door, all the birthdays spent eating chocolate cake slices outside the same door, and all the begging every winter to come out and build a snowman with her. Little had Anna known how painful all the pleadings to build snowmen were for Elsa. How many times had Anna reminded her of _that_ night? Every winter, Anna had knocked at Elsa’s door, begging for her to come out and build a snowman with her, unaware of the pain she caused her sister.

 _But how could I have known when my memories had been wiped?_ Anna reminds herself as she knocks on the door of Elsa’s study. She knew Elsa would welcome her in, yet she couldn’t stop the smallest whisper of doubt, that maybe this time, her sister would tell her to go away.

“Come in, Anna.”

Anna twists the handle, pushing the door open into the study. The sun filters through the stained triangular window, throwing subtle shades of pink and green onto the wooden floor. At the desk sits Elsa, back straight, shoulders slightly tense, and head bowed as she gazes down at the letter folded into thirds. Anna holds her own unfolded letter to her chest as she stops in the doorframe. The sunlight catches in her hair, spinning fine threads of light through red.

“You’re finished already?” Anna asks as she strolls to the chair near Elsa’s desk, flopping back in the seat. “Because I already have.”

“Yes, I finished already,” Elsa’s voice struggles not to waver, “It…it wasn’t easy.”

“It wasn’t easy for me either,” Anna concedes, her words to her ten-year-old self still writing across her mind’s eye.

Elsa leans back in her chair, her fingers drumming a quiet beat on the desk.

“Do you want me to read yours first, or do you want to read mine?” Elsa queries.

Anna brandished the letter at Elsa. “Might as well do mine first. Don’t expect anything overly elegant.”

Elsa stared at the piece of paper, bringing a hand tentatively forward. “Are you sure?”

“It’s going to be me,” Anna says, “so don’t expect elegan-quonce.”

“Eloquence?”

Anna slaps a hand over her forehead, “ _That’s_ the word I was looking for! Eloquence!”

Elsa grins a little. “I’m glad you found it.”

The queen leans forward a little to take Anna’s unfolded letter, turning it around so the words were upright, rather than upside-down. Anna leans back on her chair, lifting the front legs off the floor. Elsa’s eyes flicker to Anna’s feet with a little wince.

“Please don’t lean back,” Elsa requests, “it always makes me nervous when people do that.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” Anna assures, pushing the chair back far enough that it almost overbalances. “Whoa!”

Her arms windmill for a moment, before the chair legs come back down to earth with a loud clunk. An audible sigh of relief from both Anna and Elsa stirs the air.

“That’s…that’s what I mean.” Elsa says.

“Okay, I won’t do it again, promise,” Anna assures, “You feel up to reading the letter?”

Elsa tilts her head down, eyes darting back and forth as she slowly reads the letter. Anna watches her face with intent, observing how the lop-sided smile at the beginning of the letter fades into consternation as she reads the paragraph full of snowmen and trust exercises. The younger sister doesn’t break the silence, content to watch Elsa, hands clasped together in her lap. The queen looks up at Anna.

“You gave up.”

“Wait what?”

“You stopped knocking because you gave up.”

Anna bites her lower lip, head bowed. When she speaks, it’s with deep guilt.

“I…I did. But I didn’t stop loving you.”

“But then you knocked when our parents…” Elsa can’t bring herself to finish the sentence, but Anna knows.

Even now, Anna stands up and goes to wind an arm around Elsa’s shoulders, the older sister leaning her head on the younger’s chest.

“I wanted to be there for you,” Anna says, squeezing her sister’s shoulder gently. “I really did.”

Elsa closes her eyes, remembering the dark days before her coronation day. When she had stayed in her room, so embroiled in her fear of her powers she couldn’t even come out to comfort Anna.

“Believe me, you do not know how much I wanted to open the door,” Elsa near whispers, “I wanted to be at the funeral, but…my powers…”

Anna’s other arm joins its twin, encircling Elsa’s shoulders fully. The younger leans her red head on blonde, not caring if a tear might have dropped into Elsa’s hair. She can feel Elsa taking a deep breath before raising the letter to continue reading. Then her eyebrows shoot upward.

“You _kicked off_ Olaf’s head?” she asks, shifting a little. “Why?”

“Well…uh…long story or short?” Anna asks. “Or do you want to wait till after?”

Anna can almost hear Elsa’s brain working as she thinks whether she ought to hear the story about Olaf’s head now or later.

“Afterwards,” Elsa decides, “And I want to hear every word of it. I hope Olaf was okay.”

“Oh, he was fine,” Anna assures, unable to resist a little grin at the memory, “he didn’t seem to care much about that once we knew what was going on.” Anna straightens up, placing her hands on her hips. “Wouldn’t you freak out too if you…wait…”

“I’m the snow queen, remember?”

“Yeah. About that whole snow queen thing. Of course you didn’t freak out when you saw Olaf when we came to your ice palace.”

The sisters share a little smile, before Elsa returns her attention to the letter. She quietly reads as Anna kneels on the floor next to her. A silent minute elapses before the atmosphere is broken by the sound of paper folding and Elsa’s whisper.

“Love will thaw,” Elsa echoed the final words of Anna’s letter, “I wish I’d known that long ago.”

Anna lays her head on Elsa’s lap. “I wish the _trolls_ had told you that in the first place.”

“They meant well.”

“Still. They made you fear your magic _without_ explaining that love would be enough to control your powers. Seems really unfair to me. It was because of them that we spent thirteen years on either side of a locked door.”

“Anna—”

“No—it would have been so much easier had they _told_ you that same night!” Anna slams a fist into her other hand. “And why didn’t our parents figure it out?”

Elsa sighs, but it sounds more resigned than frustrated. “They tried their best.”

“So their ‘best’ was keeping us apart?” Anna’s voice rises with her indignation, “The best idea they had was a locked door? Wow, and they were the king and queen!”

“Anna!” Elsa’s voice is reproachful, shocked.

Anna knows she deserves that chastisement, but she doesn’t care. Her parents—and, to some extent, the rock trolls—had stolen her childhood, which, once gone, could never be retrieved again.

“I know, I know,” Anna concedes, “They had the kingdom’s best interests at heart, but…”

“They did what they could do. Like you said, they still loved us, no matter what.”

Anna sighs, seeming to deflate, losing her former irritation.

“Yeah. You’re right.”

Inside, she still sulks, even though she is well aware that Elsa had a point. Their parents had loved them and did what they could. They weren’t perfect, and nor did they ever try to claim to be so. They were two human adults who, like most people, didn’t know what to do with something that they knew nothing about.

“Elsa?” Anna gets her sister’s attention. “May I…read your letter? Unless of course you’d rather I didn’t yet.”

Elsa picks up the folded letter, bringing it to her lap, but does not unfold it.

“I…I might have cried a little writing it,” she confesses, and at once Anna’s hand takes one of hers, squeezing gently.

“It’s okay, Elsa,” Anna soothes, “You’re allowed to cry. It hasn’t been easy.”

Elsa exhales shakily. “No, it hasn’t.”

Anna gently takes the letter from Elsa’s other hand and opens it with her own still-free one. Even her own eyes began to mist when she read the words that clearly spoke of her sacrifice for Elsa. She gave Elsa’s hand a strong squeeze, looking up at her sister, who is watching her read the letter.

“You know what the first thing I heard when I thawed was?”

Elsa shakes her head imperceptibly.

“Was…was it my…”

“Yes.”

Elsa’s eyes well over.

“And the first thing I saw was you…” Anna sniffs, her voice thick, “Was you looking up at me.” The younger sister offers the smallest and wobbliest of smiles. “The first word I heard? My name.”

Elsa’s hand tightens on Anna’s as she wipes her eyes with her other hand. Her clasp is crushing Anna’s fingers, but the latter doesn’t care. She knows Elsa is remembering too. Anna’s thumb absent-mindedly brushes across Elsa’s knuckles as she carries on reading. A slow smile crawls over one side of her mouth.

“Olaf _did_ return,” Anna agreed, “and…hey, we _did_ totally build a snowman again! How did I not realise that?”

Elsa laughs weakly. “If it makes you feel better, I’d only just figured it out when writing the letter.”

“Not very quick on the uptake were we?” Anna remarks good-naturedly.

“I like to think I’m quick on the uptake, thank you, Anna.”

Anna pouts, but she can’t hold it for long as Elsa clearly cannot hold back the tiniest peal of giggles showing in her shaking shoulders. Anna whacks her sister’s knees with the piece of paper before clearing her throat, returning her attention to the letter. She does not speak, though her hand still retains its hold on Elsa’s, as she reads the rest of Elsa’s letter. Everything is so heartfelt that Anna can’t help but lean her head again on Elsa’s knee, her warmth assuring the queen she was still there. Elsa’s free hand comes to wrap around Anna’s shoulders, holding her close. When Anna finishes reading, she lowers the letter to her lap, lifting her head to stare across at the door. Elsa doesn’t immediately ask her what she thought, allowing the younger sister to reflect on what she had read. She just lets Anna be silent and speak when she is ready. Silence had always been Elsa’s companion anyway, but it was usually full of harsh unspoken thoughts and words. Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know. Monster. Cursed.

This time, the silence, her constant companion for over thirteen years, was full of compassionate and loving words. Feel, be free, let it go, beautiful, compassionate, magical.

“Do the magic, Elsa.”

Snow, soft and gentle, drifted from the ceiling, Anna staring up with the same wonder in her eyes as she had the first time she had ever seen Elsa’s magic.

Elsa smiles down at her beautiful little sister, who never ceased to be amazed at her snow magic.

“Always.”


End file.
